Hi guys! This is another story I decided to write. Yes, I know another story now she has four stories and no complete ones bla bla, bla… But I'm really excited and I know I won't get anything done if I don't start this one. Bloom in the Storm has only two chapters I know, but I didn't get any reviews at all on my second chapter, so go review that if you want more… -.-" My one-shot challenge has six chappies and don't worry I'm working on the seventh. And for Graywhisper's, it's got over 20 chapters. I may post one more, but then I'll take a little break for a while, sound ok to you? I've got a little case of writer's block on that story.
Anyway, you know how when people design their cat, they think "Hey, do I want to be brown or black or golden or white or blue-gray, or calico, or tortoiseshell? (etc. etc.) I've decided that I'm going to make a cat for me for each of those categories. So those of you who have read Bloom in the Storm, Bloom is my white-haired form. Graywhisper is my main cat and my gray form. Get it?
This is the story of my russet cat. Hope you enjoy!
Rust
Prologue
The wind howled in great gales. Snow whirled into the air, flinging onto the landscape and covering it in a powdery white blanket. All in the world seemed to be frozen and still, submitting to the triumphant storm.
But, it seemed, not quite all was still. A steely gray smudge could be seen in the distance, inching its way along. If you looked closer, the gray smudge was actually a cat, his fur and whiskers frosted in the tiny shards of ice.
He pricked his ears but flattened them quickly as the savage wind mercilessly pounded snow against them. Hissing irritably under his breath, he advanced forward, occasionally pricking his ears and trying to find a sound. When there was no sound to be heard, he went back to walking the path he memorized, keeping his paws firmly placed on the ground, no matter how much he wanted to rush forward.
For what seemed like moons, he took step after grueling step. He slowly made his way forward.
Suddenly, the tom pricked his ears and kept them pricked, despite the whirling snow. He had found what he was looking for. Above the high keening of the wind, the steely tom could hear another sound that deeply vexed him: the faint yowling of a female cat, obviously in pain.
Unable to contain his anxiety any longer, he gave into his instincts and sprinted ahead, unable to see anything thorough the snow. He used the growing-louder yowls to lead him in the right direction.
Finally, he made it to a small rock-den, the small opening stuffed with moss to keep out the cold. The tom could hear the yowling emanating from inside the rock-den, the sound making the fur along his spine raise in horror. He ripped the moss away and ducked inside, feeling tempted to leave the moss and rush towards the sound, but tucking it back carefully in the seam with shaking, fumbling, paws. He turned.
The rock den extended into a comfortable cavern. It was just the right size for a family or two. The gray tom had found it when his mate had requested a bigger den. The two had lived their comfortably.
The way down into the cavern was a series of stones laid in slabs, making a structure easy for walking up and down from the entrance to the den. The tom sprinted down the slabs, taking them four at a time. He rushed to the furthest corner of the den, stopping next to the nest of a copper she-cat writhing in pain, emitting the terrible yowls he had been looking for.
He pushed his nose into her copper fur, wishing he knew how to help a kitting queen.
There he sat, rigid, with his nose in her scruff for hours. Dawn came and passed, but the raging blizzard outside continued, its howling winds still audible above his mate's screams.
Suddenly, spasms ran down the copper she-cat's body, worse than the usual. The tom's scruff rose in fear, and he watched rigid as the copper she-cat struggled in pain. There was a loud scream- the loudest so far, and the tom's eyes widened in anxiety. Then, out plopped a kit, soaked in blood. The tom seized the kit and noticed the blood, continuing to flow. The tom raised eyes toward the roof of the den. What should I do? He looked at the she-cat to find her relaxing, stopping her spasms.
He remembered the kit at his paws and began to lick. It was a she-cat, and he began to see her russet fur as he cleaned the blood, running his tongue opposite the direction of her fur to clean out all the blood. To his surprise, the kit coughed and mewled, struggling away from his tongue and towards the copper she-cat, where she lay, blood all around her. She looked up at him, her green eyes glassy.
Before he could react, the she-cat spoke.
"Frog." She mumbled, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "You came."
Frog felt a tear in his eye. "Of course I did Flower, I love you."
"I love you too." Flower murmured. "But it is my time to leave here."
Frog froze, then yowls sprang from his mouth. "No! Flower no! Stay with me. I cannot raise a kit! Some cat has to feed her!"
"You will figure it out, Frog. I have faith in you." Flower said, almost joyfully. "I will be watching over you from the heavens."
"But I don't want you up there! I want you down here, with me!" Frog wailed, his ears twitching.
Flower seemed to ignore his protests, looking down at the suckling kit instead. "Her fur is a beautiful russet, Frog. We got lucky." She muttered.
Frog said nothing.
"Her name will be Rust." Flower said. "It fits her."
"It's a beautiful name, but I want you with me as she grows up!" Frog cried unexpectedly. "You can't leave me! I need you! I love you!"
"Good-bye Frog. I love you too." Flower said simply, her eyelids slipping down to cover her dull eyes.
Frog sat back down, all the fight dying in him as he realized there was nothing he could do. He tucked his nose into her scruff. "Good-bye Flower. I love you. I'll miss you."
And that was where he sat as the life drained out of the copper she-cat and her body became cold. That was where he sat long after, all through the rest of twilight. That was where he sat, still as a statue, until he was roused into the present by a tiny mew of complaint.
Oh yes. The kit. Frog couldn't help but feeling a tiny prick of resentment for this kit who Flower had died giving birth to, but he quickly scolded himself. How would Flower want you to treat her? Frog picked up the kit gently, with the utmost care, how he imagined Flower would want him to. He grabbed a bit of untainted moss from the edge of Flower's nest with his claw, than turned to another corner and placed some under the cold stone. Then he wrapped the kit securely in the corner, enough so that she was warm and comfortable and would not want to leave it.
Than he turned towards Flower's body, sad and lifeless without the warm spirit that it used to possess. Frog picked up Flower's body by her scruff, just as gently as he had done with the kit. He carried her outside and laid her on the clean snow, noticing subconsciously that the blizzard had stopped. The whole world seemed cruelly beautiful. The world should not be beautiful if Flower is dead. But it was.
Quickly, he cleaned the blood from her copper fur, so that it shone in the moonlight. He positioned her body in a position like she was just sleeping, than turned his back on her into a copse of nearby trees, frosted neatly with white powder.
He sighed and chose out a gravesite. The spot he settled on was a lovely place by a stream that bloomed with wildflowers in newleaf. It was over shadowed with the leaves of a huge maple and the draping fronds of a willow. Flower had loved it there. Frog began to dig past the soft layer of snow, fighting brutally through the hard ground until there was a hole deep enough that would keep Flower's body covered when the snow melted. No scavengers would get her.
He laid her gently in her grave, licked her ear and covered it with dirt and snow. He turned around and ducked inside the den without a second glance, his paws heavy with sorrow. He stayed long enough to grab the kit, still warm and safe in her tight cocoon of moss.
Frog exited the den and stared up at the big round moon, then at the stars twinkling beautifully in the sky. To Frog, one of them seemed to be the most beautiful of all of them, more beautiful than the moon. He shook his head, and began to think.
Where can I take this kit? He thought.
Suddenly he knew. He made sure the kit was wrapped snuggly and then scooped her up, ignoring her faint mews of protest. Frog then began to run. He headed toward a place he vowed he would never come back to, but now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time only for thinking about the kits survival.
His destination was far away, but it would not take the whole two sunsets travel if he ran his very best the whole way.
That was what he did. Frog sprinted along the frozen ground, his paws barely skimming the snowy drifts and leaving faint paw prints in the snow. This running had taken moons of practice, and he knew what he was doing.
The sun rose, slipping above the horizon and stretching pale pink fingers above the sky. Frog continued running.
The sun continued to rise, pulling back its pink fingers and making the sky blue, rising so it burned hot and bright, making Frog dizzy as he stared at the light reflected off the snow. He continued running.
Than the sun fell, taking the cheery blue sky with it. The moon rose, just as full as the night before. The blizzard did not come, though, which was lucky.
Through it all, Frog continued running.
Finally, his destination came within view. He spotted the collection of rocks that marked his sister's place. Trembling from exhaustion and lack of food, he stopped running and padded forward, hesitating briefly before walking into his sister's den. Her scent filled his nose, and he unsuccessfully tried to restrain his hair from raising. Her steely gray eyes met his, and she hissed loudly.
"What do you think you're doing back here?" She said, mewing lowly. She curled herself tightly around something.
"Let me explain, please, Oreo." Frog mewed desperately.
"What is there to explain?" Oreo hissed, her eyes gleaming maliciously.
"I have a kit with me." Frog whispered. "Flower died giving birth to her."
Oreo's hateful expression instantly vanished, being replaced by a guarded, reproachful, look.
"Let me see."
Carefully, Frog placed the kit on the floor and unwrapped her. Whining piteously, the small kit sprawled along the floor and into Oreo's warm nest, smelling the familiar milk-scent on her immediately. Rust began to suckle next to Oreo's own single kit.
Oreo's expression softened, and Frog knew his kit was safe.
"I'll take her." Oreo said quietly. "But you'd better find somewhere else to sleep and your own prey to eat."
"I will not leave her." Frog told her immediately. "Her name is Rust, and I cannot leave her. She's all I have left."
Oreo regarded him approvingly. "The first signs of a good father. Very well. You may sleep nearby, and come visit in the morning. Then, I will decide what to do with you."
Frog sighed in relief. "Thank you, Oreo."
"Don't get used to it."
So what do you think? I thought it turned out pretty well. I hope you enjoyed, cause this was tiring. Review please! It would make my day!
-Graywhisper :3